


archivist solidarity time!

by quantumducky



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Cats, Gen, Mutual Infodumping, Pillow & Blanket Forts, or pictures of them at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/pseuds/quantumducky
Summary: There was a strange woman in Jon’s archives.Or: Due to events which will remain unexplained, Jonathan Sims meets Ivy Alexandria.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Ivy Alexandria (The Mechanisms)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 334
Collections: Mechanisms and Magnus Crossovers that maintain the integrity of mechanisms lore, The Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020





	archivist solidarity time!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [humansandotherpeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/humansandotherpeople/gifts).



> Saw this character combination in the rarepair exchange and immediately wanted to write something for it, but I didn't have time until now... never too late for extra gifts though right

There was a strange woman in Jon’s archives.

He hadn’t seen her so much as _felt_ her there, like there was someone walking through his actual brain, taking memories out of their places and then setting them back down slightly to the left. As if he didn’t have enough things to worry about as it was. All day he’d been sitting in his office- he knew it was a little bit sad, the amount of time he spent in his office moping lately, but it was safer to stay where there weren’t any random passersby to drag traumatic experiences out of. Now, though, he pushed himself up from his desk and strode out of his office with a purpose. It might have been the least hesitation he’d had about anything in months, but he didn’t think he could be blamed when someone was _messing with his files._

Guided by instinct, he soon found her. She was walking down a row of shelves, looking around with interest while running her fingers along the tops of files sticking out of boxes, and Jon had the irrational urge to slap her hand away. “Excuse me,” he said with barely restrained irritation. “What are you doing down here? This area isn’t open to the public.” Or, he didn’t add, particularly _safe_ for it.

She looked up and seemed to notice his presence for the first time. “Oh, hello. Do you work here?”

Jon was fairly certain he’d asked his question first. Still, he answered hers. _“Yes,_ I- I’m the Archivist.” _And you’re touching my statements._ Giving in to the itch in his mind, he pulled out the box she’d had her hand on and rearranged its contents, apparently at random, before putting it back.

“Good. In that case, you can tell me where we are.”

Ah, so she’d just gotten lost on her way to some other part of the building. The thought soothed Jon’s ruffled mental feathers… at least until he started giving her directions back upstairs, and she interrupted, saying that wasn’t what she meant.

He tried again. “We’re… in the archives… of the Magnus Institute?” She kept looking at him as if expecting more, and he added a little self-consciously, “London.”

“Oh, _London.”_ Her tone was one of mild relief. “That’s not too bad, then.”

“What- why…” Jon had no idea what was going on right now, and familiar as the feeling may have been, he still didn’t like it. “Who _are_ you?”

If he’d compelled her in his frustration, the odd woman didn’t appear to notice. She offered a vague smile and a handshake. “Ivy Alexandria. I’m an archivist, too.”

He nodded slowly and made his best effort, though out of practice, to return both. “Jon, ah, Jonathan Sims.”

They paused awkwardly for a few seconds, each scrambling for an appropriate way to proceed, and then both of them spoke at once.

“What _is_ the Magnus Institute?”

“How exactly did you get in here?”

Ivy gave Jon a considering look and muttered something under her breath about approximate distances and travel times, and he was almost sure he heard the word _lightyears._ “Yes,” she said, still half to herself, “I should have enough time to talk.” Addressing him again, she asked, “Does this institute of yours have a library?”

* * *

It was lucky, Jon considered, that the latest bizarre occurrence in his life had happened late enough for the building to be essentially deserted. They probably would have drawn some attention like this if anyone else had been around.

Before she would give him any sort of proper explanation of where she had come from, Ivy insisted on getting comfortable. Her definition of _comfortable_ apparently consisted of a highly particular arrangement of cushions and throw blankets in a corner of the library, despite the fact that it had no shortage of perfectly good chairs which would _not_ have required Jon to help her drag over the necessary materials. The chairs were even involved, if only to drape blankets over as a method of blocking out the bright lights. He had a quiet suspicion she had wanted to see if she could make him go along with it.

And, well. It wasn’t as if Jon considered himself _above_ making a nest on the floor, especially if it came with the promise of answers- after he delivered his own, of course. When she finally deemed it good enough and they both sat down, he couldn’t deny it was actually _very_ cozy. Better than most sleeping arrangements he’d had recently, if he was honest.

“So,” he said, blinking himself out of thoughts of taking a nap right here and now. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Ivy was potentially dangerous, it was just that _everything_ was potentially dangerous and sometimes it was difficult to see the point in trying to avoid it. The effort clearly hadn’t done much to keep him safe _so_ far, after all.

“You were going to tell me about _this_ place,” Ivy prompted, gesturing around them. She seemed much more at ease; he hadn’t noticed any tension in her before, but now she was that little bit more open. Maybe she’d known she was in his territory- he didn’t like to catch himself automatically thinking of the archives that way, but he knew on some level it was true. Maybe she’d simply been more serious than he had thought about this little setup being comfortable for her. Either way, there was a shift in the air that left both of them more relaxed.

Jon nodded, leaned back into the cushions, and started his side of the explaining. The quicker he satisfied her curiosity, the sooner he would be able to sate his own.

* * *

The first thing that surprised Jon about Ivy Alexandria was how easily she took it all in stride- the Institute, the fears, what he was- despite never having heard of any of it before.

The second, of course, was literally everything else about her.

“You- you’re really…”

Ivy nodded patiently. Jon wasn’t sure himself how that sentence was going to end- _immortal, a cyborg, a goddamn_ **_space pirate-_ ** but the answer would have been the same matter-of-fact confirmation regardless, so he supposed it didn’t really matter.

Something else occurred to him: he felt better right now than he had in a while, and that wasn’t necessarily a _good_ sign. “I’m probably going to start showing up in your dreams, now that you’ve told me all that. Sorry.”

She shrugged, dismissive. “That’s not a problem. I never remember my dreams, anyway. I’m only eighty percent confident I even have them.”

“Ah. Well, that’s… that’s good, I suppose.”

Ivy only shrugged again.

Jon had run out of things to say- he’d said a _lot_ of things, already, to be fair, and honestly he was surprised Ivy hadn’t gotten annoyed- and the silence was beginning to feel awkward. It might have been comfortable with a friend, but this was a near- _stranger_ he was lying in a pile of blankets on the floor with. He searched his brain for a safe topic of conversation, something, preferably, that not even he could screw up. There was only one option, really, and he said rather suddenly: “Do you want to see a picture of my cat?”

“Yes.” Ivy sat up and turned to him with surprising speed, and Jon was left fumbling to get his phone out while she waited impatiently.

“He’s not exactly _my_ cat,” he explained while pulling up the camera app. “We broke up- that is, Georgie and I broke up, and he’s really her cat. Er- Georgie is my ex-girlfriend.” He shoved his phone at Ivy, hoping she’d take the burden of trying to speak coherently from him along with it. “The cat’s name is The Admiral.”

Ivy’s eyes widened in admiration. She scrolled through the (many, so very many) photos Jon had of the Admiral quietly, giving each her full attention, until she had reached the end and handed the phone back. “He looks,” she decided, “like a perfect specimen of a cat.”

Jon nodded just as seriously. “I may be biased, but I would say he is.”

“Oh! Would you like to see _my_ cat pictures?” Hardly waiting for his agreement, she produced a futuristic device of some sort from a surprisingly deep pocket in her skirt and showed it to him.

Briefly at a loss for words, Jon blinked a few times. The image he was looking at did not change. “What, ah… I don’t mean to be rude. What the _hell_ is that?”

“Octokittens, our ship has an infestation of them.” Ivy appeared to believe this explained everything. “The others kill them sometimes, but I enjoy their presence.”

Jon leaned in for a second look. “They’re… cute?” he said weakly.

She nodded in satisfaction and returned the device to her pocket. Just as she did so, an explosion shook the entire building. Jon swore loudly and narrowly avoided a book falling on his head, but Ivy only looked up in the direction it had come from with a faint smile.

“That will be my ride.” She put the book back on the shelf and watched Jon pick himself up. “I should go. On average, it only takes eight minutes and twenty-five seconds for the crew to get bored enough to blow something _else_ up.”

“Right- uh, yes. I… would appreciate that _not_ happening, thanks.”

“I thought you would.”

“I’ll- well, I was going to say _I’ll see you,_ but the chances of that actually happening are-”

“Three hundred and twenty thousand to one,” she agreed. “Probably not- but it’s possible. You never know.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Ivy waved to him as she left. “Good luck with your eldritch horrors,” she offered, and was gone.

Jon stared after her for a second and muttered, “Thanks.” Then he looked down at the mess he was standing in. Time to clean this up before some overachieving researcher came in early and found him.

…And if it all ended up in the corner of his office instead of where it belonged, and himself asleep in the middle of it, that was no one’s business but his own.

**Author's Note:**

> *picks up jon and ivy* These Archivists WILL Have One (1) Nice Day


End file.
